by Fiona Miers
“Well, I very much would like to marry for love. My parents have a wonderful marriage and I have always hoped for a similar pairing myself. My parents want to give me, my brother and my sister a better chance at marrying well, but they only have money for one season. As I’m the eldest I need to marry someone who can help my family. If I marry a penniless wastrel, my sister will never get to have a season and my baby brother will never go to Eton.” She sounded like she was crying again and Oliver fought the urge to wrap his arms around her. That certainly wouldn’t be appropriate.
He laughed to try and break the tension. Hearing her voice clogged with tears, wasn’t pleasant.
Oliver looked over at his companion and smiled. “Well, make sure you fall in love with someone who can support your family.”
Sarah’s eyes cleared of their tears, then her wide, full mouth broke into a huge grin.
“I’ll try,” she said and then laughed. She laughed loudly and with her whole body. It was an amazing sound.
A grin unconsciously stretched across Oliver’s face now. He’d never before heard a lady laugh like that.
Sarah clapped one hand over her mouth to stifle the sound and the other to her trim belly to hold in her laughter.
“I shouldn’t be too loud, people will come over to find out what we’re talking about and ruin our conversation.” She laughed, looking back at the ballroom full of people.
That pulled Oliver out of his idleness. He needed to know how she felt about titles before someone stupidly told her who he was.
“And what about a title? Should I introduce you to a viscount? A second son? Do you have a preference?” He tried to sound as though her answer wasn’t important, but he would be a fool not to acknowledge, to himself at least, how much her answer to this question meant to him.
She laughed again and it was delicious. There was no other word for it.
“Goodness, how mercenary we sound. Actually, I was thinking about that as I was getting dressed tonight. I really don’t want a title.”
Oliver’s heart stopped. That wasn’t what he had expected her to say and neither was he feeling the relief he should have been feeling.
“I do not have the bloodlines to attract a title,” she continued, oblivious to his distress. “And I don’t have a dowry for a second son to enjoy, so I suppose I was hoping for a man who would be able to look after my family, but also overlook my faults.” Her eyes dropped, but before he could correct her about how few her faults were, she jumped in again. “Oh, and I don’t want him to be over forty and I want him to be gentle.”
Oliver coughed because he couldn’t laugh. What else could he do? She had the funniest list he had ever heard. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen and she thought she should engage the attentions of a man in trade who would be nice to her, but not be old. Goodness, she was frank!
“So? Do you know anyone who could be all these things,” she asked coyly, sliding her eyes over to him in a way that made his blood run both hot and cold. Was she suggesting that he put his hat in the ring? Or was she asking if he truly knew someone good enough for her? Either way, he felt ill.
Oliver cleared his throat and tore his eyes away from her beautiful face to look out over the gardens.
“I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry, Oliver. I know you’re just being kind, being here with me.”
She sounded so sad and her words were so clearly honest that Oliver was once again shocked into silence. She was hoping he would offer for her. Why did that feel so good? She knew hardly anything about him, not his family connections, not his occupation, not even his last name.
But he knew from the small amount of time they had spent together already, that they would suit each other well and she obviously felt the same. She was kind and intelligent and as beautiful as the sun and moon combined. He’d have married her in an instant if he had met her two years before. If he hadn’t become the new Duke of Lincoln and it wasn’t required that he should marry someone worthy of the title.
He slammed his hand into the banister and she jumped a little.
Sarah cleared her throat, then spoke into the awkward silence.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I shall never again venture into a garden at night.” Her tone was teasing and light but Oliver knew only too well how true her words were. He had to tell her the truth about who he was.
“Sarah, I...”
“Oh, here you are,” came a familiar voice from behind them. Oliver closed his eyes briefly and said a little prayer. This was either going to go well, or end very badly indeed.
Oliver and Sarah both turned to see who had interrupted their private moment. It was Lady Charlotte and her brother, Lord John Dunford.
“Miss Collins, so lovely to see you again and looking so well,” Charlotte said, curtsying politely as Sarah swept into a low enough curtsy to pass for the King’s arrival.
“Lady Charlotte, so nice to see you,” Sarah returned quietly.
Oliver wasn’t sure if his familiarity with the Dunford’s was giving her pause or the fact they were one of the wealthiest and oldest families in London, next to his of course.
John looked pointedly at Oliver.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Sarah Collins this is an old school friend of mine, Lord John Dunford.” Again Sarah swept into an embarrassingly low curtsy and gave John a small smile. Although John was a second son, his father’s title was usually enough to intimidate the debutantes. Sarah was no exception.
“It is, indeed, an honor to make your acquaintance, my lord.”
“And I yours, Miss Collins,” John swept gallantly into a low bow to match her curtsy. He was looking quite amused by the situation, Oliver could tell as the corners of John’s mouth quirked up slightly.
“Are you enjoying the evening?” John tilted his head politely.
“Oh yes,” she nodded, her eyes as big as a doe’s.
“I have never been to a house that was so beautiful. Except perhaps your birthday celebration the other night, Lady Charlotte. I would like to thank you again for the invitation.” She smiled at Charlotte and then, in turn, at John.
John’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise.
“We were so pleased you could come, Miss Collins.” Charlotte replied. She was smiling warmly at Sarah and Oliver felt his teeth clenching again at the light in Charlotte’s eyes.
“I heard that my friend managed to give you a small amount of assistance that night, Miss Collins. I hope you are feeling better this evening?” John dropped his voice to make sure that no other person on the balcony could hear him.
Sarah blushed deeply but instead of avoiding the topic, her gaze held firmly to John’s face and her eyes flashed with a strange expression.
“He did indeed, sir,” Sarah rushed in before Oliver could say anything, lifting her chin a fraction. “Although, it was no small thing. Without Oliver there that night, I’m afraid I would have been packed and on my way back to Somerset today from the horror of it all.” Sarah lifted her chin again in a defiant manner and Oliver could do nothing but stare at her. She wasn’t afraid to thank him publicly for his rescue and she looked so incredible when she was defending him.
“Oliver?” Lord John asked, one eyebrow raised in the air. Oliver silently cursed inwardly. He never had told Sarah his surname and she certainly didn’t know his title. Trust John to notice the use of his given name. Most people called him ‘His Grace’ or ‘Lincoln’. No one except his mother and a few select friends called him Oliver.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Sarah gasped, realizing her error she turned to Oliver and laid a hand on his arm in an intimate gesture that neither Charlotte nor John missed. Oliver grimaced, he had known he was going to regret joining her on the balcony.
“I don’t know what name or title to call you by.” Sarah turned wide, innocent eyes on him and Oliver wanted to kick himself. Oh hell!
Lady Charlotte and Lord John both burst into amused laughter.
Sarah looked ba
ck at them quickly, startled.
Oliver glared at his friends. They must have thought it an amazing joke. They had found the only woman in London society who didn’t know every detail about him, down to his shoe size.
“May I present His Grace, the Duke of Lincoln, formerly Oliver Lyre.” John announced to Sarah, with another bow and a great flourish of his right hand.
Sarah pulled back her hand from his jacket sleeve so quickly it was painful. She took a step back from him with a wounded look in her huge violet eyes.
“I thought... you said... ah... oh my,” Sarah stuttered as she stumbled back towards the ballroom. Without even a backwards glance, she picked up her skirts and ran from the balcony.
Oliver watched her run away from him in a state of shock. What would possess her to run from him like that? He hadn’t told her his title when they had met, but surely it would be an advantage to him, not a disadvantage? Her words floated back through his mind, “I do not have the bloodlines to attract a title.” And he possessed one of the highest titles in London, save for royalty. Maybe she was embarrassed she’d made such a statement? Maybe she truly did want a title and was now shocked that she had missed the opportunity? He had no idea what she was thinking, but he had to find out.
Blindly, he moved to follow her, but a strong hand wrapped around his forearm and held him, preventing him from moving forward.
“Unless you intend to marry that girl, I suggest you don’t go after her,” warned the voice of reason.
Oliver’s spine stiffened as he looked up at that voice, that of one of his oldest friends. John’s brown eyes burned into his own and Oliver felt his surprise turning to anger.
“I just wanted to see if she was all right.” He shook off John’s arm. “I think she was embarrassed that she didn’t know I was a Duke.” Oliver bit out, spitting out his title as though it tasted foul.
“Well of course she was embarrassed. It’s obvious the girl likes you,” Charlotte hissed. “I’ll go to the retiring room, I’m sure that is where she would have gone.”
Charlotte moved away with her regal air and John pulled Oliver back towards the edge of the balcony. There was a crowd gathering now. The sight of a debutante running from the balcony had indeed caused a stir. Ladies didn’t run, ever.
“Well?” Lord John asked him, his eyes narrowing.
“Well what, John?” Oliver turned away from his friend and faced the trees that moments ago had been his saving grace from other embarrassing questions.
“Why didn’t you tell that poor girl who you were? She looked at you like you were the devil himself just now. People will be talking about this for weeks,” he gestured ominously to the crowd behind them, which seemed to be getting bigger.
“I didn’t really get the chance the other night between trying to avoid being seen and smuggling her out of the party before anyone saw her.” Oliver justified, hotly. What did John want from him?
“And tonight?”
Good question. Tonight he had been enjoying her honest answers and beautiful face too much to let her know that he should be on the very top of her list of ‘good catches’.
“I was getting to it, all right?” Oliver all but grunted at his friend.
John looked at him strangely, then rested his back against the balustrade.
“She’s quite beautiful,” John said airily, waving one hand like a dandy.
“Who is?” Oliver asked through his teeth
“Miss Collins, of course,” John grinned, enjoying the obvious discomfort his comment had caused. “Did you see those eyes? And those breasts! If a man ever wanted to dream up a woman, that is what she would look like.” He sighed grandly and before Oliver knew it he was grabbing his best friend by the lapels and almost pushing him off the edge of the balcony.
“Do not talk about her like that.”
His heart was pumping hard and his hands were clenching around the black material of John’s collar.
John’s smile seemed forced as he answered. “Why ever not? Are you planning on marrying her, after all?” His tone was serious, though they both knew Oliver had no marital plans for the near future.
Oliver looked down at his hands, clenched in his friend’s evening jacket and hastily stepped back, letting go as he did so. “I apologize.”
John just quirked one eyebrow again, asking him a silent question.
“I think I’m protective of her after what happened the other night, that is all.” Oliver reached for the easiest answer. That sounded like a plausible excuse for almost doing harm to a man he had known for over thirteen years, just because he’d admired Sarah.
John pulled Oliver further away from the door before asking him quietly, “Do you know what happened to her?”
“Not exactly, I didn’t ask her for specific details. Her dress was torn and her back was scratched, but Sarah said she fought him off before he could do too much damage.” Imagining again what Millington had actually planned for Sarah had made him angry and his fists had clenched at his sides. He consciously relaxed them.
“Fight him off? How? She’s so small, she’d fit in your pocket.” John had as much respect for Patrick Millington as Oliver had, even before that night. They both knew him to be a nasty drunk and a stupid gambler, but a rapist of an innocent? They didn’t think he was that bad.
“Charlotte told me later that Millington had come back to the ballroom with blood around his eyes, from where she scratched him.” A smirk rose onto Oliver’s face as he imagined his little angel turning into a hellcat. Amazing
John gave a low whistle and shook his head.
“Let’s go back inside and see what my darling sister has discovered.”
They both headed back to the ballroom with a similar feeling of dread, why oh why had they come to a marriage mart event?
Three
Inside the ladies retiring room, sat two ladies, one sobbing and one consoling. Charlotte had walked into the small room and found Sarah, mercifully alone. Charlotte had taken one look at that red and tear-stained face and locked the door.
“What has happened, Miss Collins?” Charlotte reached over and began stroking her arm.
“I didn’t know... he was a... Duke,” Sarah sobbed against the shoulder offered to her. She was aware that Charlotte was a Duke’s daughter, and far above her station, but at this moment, she was grateful for the kindness being shown to her.
Charlotte laughed softly, the sound musical.
“So?”
“I... thought he... liked me,” Sarah wept through the words, unable to rationally explain why she was so upset. She shouldn’t be so disappointed, but her chest ached as though her heart was breaking.
Charlotte sighed and her shoulder slumped a little beneath Sarah’s cheek.
“So what’s wrong with that? Can’t he like you and be a Duke?” Charlotte asked gently.
“No!” Sarah jumped to her feet and stared at the beautiful woman. “You don’t understand, I wasn’t taught to worship a title, I was taught to fear and respect one.” Sarah blurted out unthinkingly. She blushed when she realized to whom she was speaking, but ploughed on nonetheless.
“People like Oliver don’t marry little nobodies like me,” Sarah added with a single tear rolling down her cheek. She wiped at it with the back of her hand and glanced towards the mirror in the corner.
It was Charlotte’s turn to jump up.
“Did he give you a reason to think that an offer of marriage was forthcoming?”
“No, of course not,” Sarah mumbled, truly embarrassed now. “I just built it up in my head after his gallant rescue the other night. I need to marry this year and he was the first person I thought might actually suit, but, oh, what am I saying? He told me he wasn’t interested in marrying in the foreseeable future, but we get along so well, and it’s so easy to talk to him.”
Charlotte was nodding encouragingly. “How can I help you?”
“Oh Lady Charlotte, you have already been of so much assistance, I do
not know how to thank you. Goodness me I have been such a trouble to you already.” Sarah sighed and slid onto a chair. She had never been in trouble in her life and she now found herself in tears twice in two nights. What had become of her?
“I meant to ask as well, are you feeling better after last night? I’m afraid Patrick Millington has got away almost scot-free whilst you now have a reputation for being quite, shall we say, violent.” A wry smile touched Charlotte’s lips.
Sarah’s shoulders slumped further. She was feeling utterly exhausted. “Thank you for being honest about that. I can only imagine what he told people.”
“He just said you took offence to something he said and attacked him. Which all in all, isn’t too bad.”
“Considering what he actually did, then yes, not too bad.” Sarah agreed, tears welling up again and sliding down her cheeks.
“Perhaps we ought to get you home, Miss Collins.” Charlotte reached out and helped to pin up a curl that had fallen down in Sarah’s mad rush from the balcony.
“Please, call me Sarah.” She said, ignoring the protocol that suggested that Lady Charlotte, being of higher rank, must offer first.
“I would love to, and you may call me Charlotte.”
“Oh, no I could not, Lady Charlotte. I just thought considering I have soaked your beautiful dress with my tears the least I could do was offer you the option to address me by my Christian name.” Sarah sniffed sadly, wiping her face again. She felt she was so untidy.
Charlotte smiled.
“Sarah, you must definitely address me by my first name. Now let’s see if I can get my carriage brought around and you can get home before anyone spots your tears.”
Sarah’s head swung around to the mirror and was horrified to see how red and blotchy her face was. She swallowed her pride and said, “I would greatly appreciate that.”
Later that night, Sarah lay in her bed, reliving each precious moment she had had with Oliver, because she knew she would have no more. She was resigned to marrying someone else now, she had no option but to do so. She would plead a cold for a few days, adjust her expectations and start her spouse hunt again the following week.
